


The Lusty Eladrin Maid

by Timeforelfnonsense



Series: Sunshine & Starlight [14]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dancing as means of wooing, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Eladrin (Dungeons & Dragons), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Outdoor Sex, Porn With Plot, Regency Romance Vibes, Romance novel vibes, Slow Dancing, The Feywild, Vampires, Wallflower/Rake dynamics, Yearning!!!, fey customs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeforelfnonsense/pseuds/Timeforelfnonsense
Summary: She dreamt of being swept off her feet. She wanted illicit midnight rendezvous. She longed for stolen kisses and tender words whispered between waltzes. To sneak away from a ballroom to some hidden alcove. He could picture it perfectly, her frilly skirts thrown over her back. His hand climbing its way up her stocking clad caves as she was bent over the nearest piece of furniture and tupped to oblivion.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Series: Sunshine & Starlight [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028865
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

It was a simple enough task to find Dafni in the little forest glade. He’d followed the trail of flowers left behind by her bare feet in the grass. The iridescent fabric of her skirt fluttered around her thighs as she twirled. Her nimble fingertips plucked berries, as red and ripe as her parted lips. She filled the woven basket hanging from the crook of her bent arm, singing softly to herself. A few rosy ringlets peak out of the front of her kerchief, framing her bespeckled cheeks. A smile tugged at Astarion’s lips, she looked like a storybook character come to life right off the page.

Silently, he crept further into the meadow watching her sway to her slivery, birdsong melody. Closer and closer until Dafni unknowingly spun herself into his embrace. Astarion pulled her into his chest, a baby pink flush spreading across the bridge of her freckled nose. Dafni glanced up at him, doe-eyed through her long, fluttering lashes. Daffodil cups unfurled themselves throughout the sea of curls flowing from her lacy kerchief. Their vibrant colors painting a sunset of yellow, cream, and peachy-pink in her tresses.

“It seems I’ve caught myself a faerie! ” Astarion murmured against her ear, toying with a stray tendril, twisting the curl around his index finger.

Dafni let out a chime of silver laughter before responding in an airy voice, “And what do you mean to do with me, good sir?”

“I mean to take you into my arms.” He said with a low chuckle, turning her so her chest was pressed to his own, “To kiss you and hold you.” He tilted her face upwards, finding her berry-stained lips with his own. Pulling away for a single torturous moment, he spoke once more, “I mean to make you mine.” 

He could taste the sweet tang of raspberry juice and honey on her tongue as he coaxed her deeper into the kiss. A contented sigh slipped from Dafni’s lungs. She nestled herself closer to his body, her full breasts pressed against his chest. He brought a hand to the base of her skull, gently cradling her head in his palm. He felt her lips curl into a smile under his kiss. 

He’d found himself rather enchanted by this little game of flirtatious make-believe. He’d perused the dog eared pages of her books out of equal parts boredom and curiosity. She’d only had the single faded pink leather volume in her bag when she’d been snatched, but over a few days, she’d been able to track down a trove of smutty literature. Through his investigation of the many, many volumes of romance and debauchery, Astarion had gathered some insight into the romantic workings of her mind. 

She dreamt of being swept off her feet. She wanted illicit midnight rendezvous. She longed for stolen kisses and tender words whispered between waltzes. To sneak away from a ballroom to some hidden alcove. He could picture it perfectly, her frilly skirts thrown over her back. His hand climbing its way up her stocking clad caves as she was bent over the nearest piece of furniture and tupped to oblivion.

What was the harm in indulging her whimsy for a little while? It would be easy enough to play the dashing rapscallion to her wayward debutante. 

“I’ll happily surrender myself to you if you promise to kiss me like that again,” She said, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. A lopsided, sunny smile flashing across her mouth.

Dafni stood on her tiptoes as she threw her arms around his neck, drawing his lips to her own again and again and once more for good measure. Her hand cupped his face, her thumb stroking softly against the sharp line of his cheek. 

A shiver ran through her as he dragged the tips of his middle and index fingers down the sensitive flesh of her inner arm. His touch wandered along her bicep, carefully tracing the delicate outline of the hardy muscle beneath the trimmings of girlish fat. His hand wrapped around the outside of her arm next, giving her a gentle squeeze before continuing his exportation of the shaking limb. His thumb glided along the line of her vena amoris, strumming a soundless melody that reverberated against the walls of her heart. 

He followed the vein to the pulse point hammering at her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat as the warmth of his kiss slipped away. Dafni made a sour expression of protest but Astarion paid her no mind. Gingerly, he brought her wrist to his lips. A feather-light peck tickled her skin before he clasped her dainty hand in his own. The corners of his lips quirked up in a spellbinding grin. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side sending a singular ivory ringlet loose from that splendid head of hair. His left hand came to rest just above the small of her back. She leaned forward in a fruitless attempt to restore the kiss, but she was only able to catch the very corner of his roguish mouth.

“What happened to holding, and kissing and making me yours?” Dafni inquired in a playful mockery of his cadence.

“I _am_ still holding you,” He reminded the hand on her back, pushing her closer for emphasis, “and I _did_ kiss you. As for making you mine...All in good time, dear.” He purred, lips brushing the long line of her ear, “Tell me, sweet girl, do you know how to dance?”

“I- Yes, I know how to dance...”

“I thought so,” Astarion nodded thoughtfully. The hand on her back traveled up to the base of her shoulder blade. He gently nudged her arm upwards until it came to rest atop his. “ A pretty creature like you must be the star of all sorts of quaint fetes. I want to be certain that at the next little soirée you attend, you’ll spend the evening scanning the crowd for my face. And every time some brave young lord or lady plucks up the courage to ask for a dance, those perfect lips will turn ever so slightly upwards as you decline. Because every time you hear a waltz all you’ll be able to think of is the man in the glen and the passionate, consummate sex you had with him.” 

Dafni’s heart threatened to burst. There she was, Dafni Ríwen, Thesmia’s sheltered, unexceptional daughter of controversial paternity. The girl who sat on the sideline of every formal gathering she’d ever attended with an empty dance card and a sullen pout, seen as an unquestionable first water by the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on! She felt her footing wobble but Astarion’s confidence held her steady and sure. She knew it was only a bit of fun but she’d spent decades dreaming of finding herself in a situation very much like this one and by the hells she was going to enjoy it! 

Astarion was clearly versed in the art of ballroom seduction. He led her through the waltz as sure-footed as anything. Though there was no music, his rhythm never faulted. Moreover, he held her much closer than was proper. His hand had fallen to the curve of her waist rather than her shoulder. Her body felt as if it had been set alight at each point of contact. 

If they were truly in a ballroom some overzealous chaperone would have certainly made a fuss. While the fey were certainly creatures of revelry and carnal pleasure, they held a certain fondness for priority and decorum that seemed to outsiders rather contradictory. But, to the people of Faerie, it all made perfect sense. A chaperone scolds a young couple for improperly and perhaps the attention would incite a reaction from a rival suitor leading to a dispute of honor. Perhaps they proved the final push for a public delectation of love. Or, at the very least, the blushing lovers might seek out some secret place to continue their dalliance now colored with the excitement of rebellion.

The wicked curve of his smile and her previous encounter with him in these very woods, lead Dafni to believe that Astarion was exactly the sort of libertine who was all too thrilled to be given an excuse to sneak off for a bit of secret bedsport. A yearning sigh fell from her chest as she pictured herself laid for him in one of the Summer Queen’s manicured hedge mazes. She bit back a lewd noise as she pictured some hapless party goer stumbling across them still in the throes of amorous relations. 

_All in good time,_ She repeated to herself as she pinched her thighs together.


	2. Chapter 2

The longer they swayed, pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, the more certain his lust addled consciousness became that the sensual curves of her body belong just below the consumption of blood on his hierarchy of needs. Those big, glittering topaz eyes, that blithe, pixie grin that tugged at the corners of her plush pink lips- She had him completely bewitched. If Astarion was asked right then and there to describe Hanali Celanil, he most assuredly would have said the elven goddess of beauty and joy as a shapely spring eladrin with wild curls the color of gillyflower and a generous sprinkling of golden freckles.

He’d have to take her to a real ball one day. Some Upper City function with good wine and better gossip. Somewhere with lots of shadowy nooks and covalently placed furnishings. His mind conjured a vision of Dafni dressed in a gown of silk and tulle. A full, flouncy number that sparkled in when the light caught it just right. Anyone else would appear garish in such a gown, but somehow on Dafni it only added to her mythical beauty. 

She’d be the envy of all in attendance, but of course, she’d spurn them all for him. Astarion felt his cock stir at the thought. There was an undeniable eroticism in the knowledge that he had the favor of someone others desired. Oh, how the rabble would seethe with jealousy when the pair of them emerged for an unoccupied study! Dafni’s hair slightly messed, her lips kiss swollen and wet. 

They could burn all they liked, this alluring enchantress was _**his**_. 

His hand traveled down her spine to her backside, giving the perfect plumpness a quick squeeze. Dafni responded with a lewd squeak. 

“Such a lovely little Coquette.” With a rakish grin, he began gathering up the hem of her gossamer dress, the back of his knuckles grazing the skin of her thigh. Dafni’s breath hitched at the sensual contact. He caught her one of her hands by the wrist, guiding her to the edge of her skirts, “Can you hold this for me, darling?” 

Dafni nodded, eagerly gathering up fistfuls of fabric. Astarion slowly sank to his knees, his hungry gaze fixed on her endearingly flustered expression. Once he was settled into the patch of flowers and wild grass, Astarion nudged her thighs apart. He kissed his way up her leg, stopping for a gentle nuzzle against the twin punctures he’d left behind during a previous tryst. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of her thin pink knickers, in one firm tug he had her hips bare. He gave a low, fierce noise, his bottom lip caught in the sharp grip of his teeth. He guided one leg over his shoulder, he kept one hand on the base of her spine, holding her firm and steady. He traced the line of her folds with his index finger. It had only taken a bit of kissing and a dance to get her wet and wanting.

Parting her petals with his fingers, Astarion set to work. Her taste was earthy and warm but there was a hint of sweetness, like wild honeysuckle, so very _Dafni_ in its nature. He swept his tongue along every inch of lovely quim, greedily lapping up her arousal. 

Her fingers buried themselves in his hair pulling him closer to her core with enthusiasm. The sensation of her dull fingernails, lightly dragging across his scalp sent an instantaneous ache to his groin. He could always be certain Dafni was truly pleased with his presence between her legs when those slender fingers wove their way into his hair. Astarion let out a sharp intake of air as Dafni, lost to wanton urge, dragged him closer with a particularly enthusiastic pull.

“Such a needy, needy girl. He hummed between the ravenous strokes of his tongue, “You are getting close aren’t you, darling?”

“Mmmhmm...” She affirmed through a breathy sob and another meaningful yank of his roots. Dafni whimpered as he slipped his middle finger into her heat and then another, pumping and stretching until a high dulcet cry shook through her whole body.

Dafni’s eyes squeezed shut, a symphony of multicolored stars exploding behind her the darkness of her eyelids. She felt drunk and dizzied with pleasure. Her knees were jelly, her stationary leg threatened to buckle but Astarion kept his hold sure. 

“That’s a good girl.” He purred, untangling himself from the limb tossed over his shoulder before guiding her down to her knees in the soft grass beside him. 

Astarion placed a kiss on the center of her forehead, his hand sliding up the back of her head, nimbly untying the knot of her handkerchief. He ran his fingers through the wispy hairs at the nape of her neck. The calloused pads of his fingertips dragged their way down the exposed skin between her shoulder blades before they found the gauzy fabric of her frock. He traced the satin ribbon that ran down the back of the dress. As he began working the lace free of each tiny eyelet, he drew her into the sweetest kiss she’d ever received, his lips brushing against hers in slow, lulling presses.

The dance, that _perfect_ kiss, it was as if he’d somehow gotten a hold of her girlhood journals and set himself to make every foolish daydream come true. Dafni cupped his face, coaxing him closer, cradling his strong, noble countenance with the same gentle reverence she would nature's most delicate creations. If only she could return the favor. Find some secret wish hidden boyish fancy locked away in the dusty attic of the fortress of hurt and anger that guarded his heart. If only he would allow her inside those daunting walls long enough to find it. 

When Dafni cared for someone, it was never in half measures and she cared for Astarion more than most. He’d seen more hardship than soul ought to have. The thought of it made her stomach wrench and the knowledge that he had lived it, _that_ felt as if her heart were caught in a vice of cold iron. She knew he despised her sympathies, mistaking her loving concern as pity. That no matter how much affection she poured into him, there would always be scars, not just the physical ones, that would linger. Still, she could offer him solace and refuge- A place for him to rest his weary soul and began healing. 

Dafni brought her arms over her head as Astarion Freed her from her dress. She watched as his elbows bend, preparing to toss the pile of rainbow chiffon Gods knew where. Dafni’s brows pulled together tightly, catching his wrist in a loose grip she shook her head.

“I’m rather fond of that dress and I’ve had to go hunting for it among shrubbery once already.”

With an overstated roll of his claret red eyes, Astarion gingerly placed her dress down in the grass beside them. The annoyance that colored his features was quite short-lived. Free of her frock Dafni draped herself across the forest floor, her thighs parted exposing her glistening core to his gaze. She took up a fistful of his white cotton shirt, pulling him into the cradle of her hips. 

He’d always thought her ravishing but, seeing her bare in the daylight…

If he weren’t dead already, the sight of Dafni, drenched in golden sunlight, thick, delicious thighs spread open in a sinful invitation, would have surely stopped his heart cold. Somehow the universe had managed to fit all the wild, joyful warmth of springtime into her splendid curvaceous body. 

Astarion ran the back of his hand across the warm, speckled flesh of her rosy cheek. Dafni gave an approving sigh, nuzzling into the touch. He traced his way down the line of one of the pale, raised marks that decorated her full hips. Delicate, wavy paths that overlay all of her most ample and lovesome places- like tendrils of creeping ivy vine crawling their way up a forest church. 

He gave one of her heavy breasts a squeeze, his thumb toying with its rosy nipple. Dafni let loose a bright keen as he took the little peak into his mouth. Her hips jerked upward, rocking back and forth over the hardness straining against his pants. 

Dafni had him relieved of his shirt in a frenzied blur. She has chided him about his treatment of her frock but it seems she held no such scruples when it came to his clothing. Not that he was terribly put out, he found the wild desperation quite rousing. 

“Astarion?” 

Gods, the way she said his name. Dafni's voice always had a musical quality but the tuneful lilt rang most clearly in her elvish. Every time his name graced her plush pink lips he felt a distant pang of gratitude he hadn’t been given something more common. 

“Daffodil?” He brushed a stray curl from her face, “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes!” She said with a small, musical giggle, her hand coming to rest over his own at the side of her face, “I was just wondering if perhaps…” 

“Perhaps what, dear? I don’t blush easily, pet. Make your request.” 

“If you insist.” She took in a deep breath, her chest pressed against his, “I was wondering if perhaps you’d take me as we are positioned now? With you on top. As you did the last time we found ourselves alone in this meadow?” 

It was an almost innocent request. 

His response should have been, _Of course, darling! I’ll ravish you any way you’d like!_

His chest tightened at the memory of her hand on the ruined flesh of his back- Of the sound of her tender promise he needn’t hide from her. All the delicious, debaucherous things she’d said that night, none had felt half as intimate the quiet reassurance murmured in her distinct, lyrical elvish. The sweet sincerity of her words had been enough to undo him that night. 

_You don’t have to hide from me._

Her liting voice still rattled about his skull like a harpy’s charm. He had foolishly allowed himself to believe her for a few, remarkable seconds. She was wrong, of course. There were most certainly parts of himself that always would remain locked uptight. Safe from those wide, curious eyes and that quivering lower lip.

He _did_ want to do it, to cradle her close and gaze into those big, beautiful eyes as he hilted himself within her. He’d bedded her plenty of times, confident as could be! Why should this be any different?

_I’ll feel vulnerable and that terrifies me._

_I’m already in too deep with you._

_You’ll grow tired of me eventually and then I’ll feel like an idiot._

“It’s alright to say no.” She assured, “I would never ask you to do anything that made you uncomfortable.”

The words felt so like her. 

Soft.

From the structure of her lovely face, her sea of floral adorned ringlets, to the fullness of her figure, or the bountiful, caring heart that thumped steadily beneath her breast, everything about Dafni was enticingly soft. Every part of her calling out to him, _Just a little closer, let me shelter you from the storm inside your chest._

Dafni was one of those rare souls who was truly kind. She had no agenda or duplicitous intentions. Just a good heart and sheltered upbringing. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her arms pulling him into a snug embrace. The feeling of her chest rising and falling against his own was almost hypnotic. He could have lost himself for hours in the soft tide of her breathing. 

“You’ve already made me so happy.” She murmured against his skin, “This morning has been like a dream.”

She was so precious.

A delicate flower that had somehow crept its way into the cracks in his soul. She made him feel needed. Special.

Maybe even loved? 

He felt a rush of bruising guilt as the thought crossed his mind. He couldn’t give her love. Not yet- possible not ever. Love felt like a four-letter word. A word that could put them both in an early grave. 

He shouldn’t have let things go this far. Gods knew he tried to keep some distance between them, to resist the strange pull he felt. Every time he would surrender to his desires. He had already allowed her this close, what difference did one more inch make? 

Astarion felt heat pricking at the tips of his ears. She was making him into a sentimental fool! One of them needed to be sensible about things and it was certainly not going to be Dafni. He knew it was not a matter of if but when he’d be forced to break her heart. That was the conundrum of caring for her. He couldn’t bear to see her hurt, but it felt inevitable that he’d hurt her himself.

He did _care_ for her.

He could allow himself that much. Perhaps, it was not in the way he should- Not the way she deserved, but it was as best he was able to for the time being.

She’d been a good and loyal friend. Someone he could trust to watch his back in a fight. She made him laugh and brought him the most joy he’d felt in centuries.

No, it wasn’t love. He was far too old and world-weary to name it as such. They had only known each other for a short while. She was young and by her own admission flighty when it came to relationships. He was bitter and hardly the sort of fairytale prince she’d want. Still, Dafni had taken up residence in a hidden corner of his heart. She was the one thing he felt he had any sort of claim to in centuries.

It wasn’t love, but maybe it didn’t need to be for it to be meaningful?

Maybe it could be one day? When he knew he was truly free of Cazador. 

“Yes.” He whispered wrapping his arms around her waist.

What was the harm in another inch? 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized quotes are implied elvish  
> Translations (via Candle Keep) & Lore:  
> Veluthe - Beautiful  
> Arael’sha - Heart-Friend (term of endearment)  
> Marsember - the City of Spices, a metropolis and the busiest port in the entire kingdom of Cormyr.  
> Lore on elves and reincarnation (just the basics): https://timeforelfnonsense.tumblr.com/post/639519308874186752/sits-backward-in-chair-like-a-cool-teacher-so

Dafni’s breath hitched as Astarion hulled her by the waist, pressing her snugly to his own body. His hips rocking gently against her own. Dafni was able to wiggle her hand between them, with a bit of fumbling, Dafni worked the buttons of his breech falls free. She gave him a light caress, her thumb teasing its way along the underside of his shaft. Dafni felt him twitch in her palm, a proud grin tweaked at her lips. Astarion buried his face in the hollow of her throat, muffling a husky groan. Dafni only ceased her attention to rid him completely of the meddlesome fabric of his pants. 

He really was beautiful _everywhere_. 

Astarion framed her with his lithesome form. His narrow hips coming down to meet her own, teasing his length against the tender, pink, flesh between her legs. She kept her expression reminded wide-eyed and demure as she shamelessly skimmed her wet slit against his cock. 

“ _Veluthe_ ,” he murmured, kissing along her pointed ear. Dafni squeaked as he nibbled lightly at her earlobe.

“ _Come to me, arael’sha_.” She coaxed, arms draped loosely over his shoulders, Dafni toyed with the soft baby-hair at the base of his skull, twirling the snowy wisps of curl gently around her index finger. She lifted her hips up to meet him, “I’m aching to feel you inside me.”

A delicious pressure started at her entrance. Her nerves were still alight from her first climax, the sensation of Astarion’s manhood sinking into her, inch by inch nearly brought tears to her eye. Stretched tight around him, her caves wrapped around him, heels digging into the top of his backside, urging him forwards. He set a slow, pleasant rhythm, his length delving delightfully deeper with each roll of his hips. Astarion dropped to his forearms, hilting himself at last.

A musical keen rattled through her as she writhed below him. He felt utterly perfect, buried so deep inside her. A warm, resplendent sensation enveloped her with each thrust. 

She was tipsy on intimacy and lovemaking. The feeling of their shared pleasure buzzing around her. By her nature, Dafni was a creature defined by emotion. Fashioned from boundless joy and playful whims, she took in the delight of others like lungfuls of crisp spring air. She could sense Astarion’s trepid excitement. Feel his need in every stroke. 

_That’s the way, dear heart. A little tenderness won’t kill you._

Dafni drew him into a kiss, her lips locking against his with increasing passion. She could still taste the floral tang of her own arousal on his tongue as it swept between her parted lips. A bright smile took shape across her face when she broke the kiss. A single, iridescent butterfly had come to rest on the tip of his nose. It’s translucent, faerie fire wings illuminating his face with their whimsical glow. Astarion wrinkled his nose, a low, warm laugh filling his chest as the illusionary creature fluttered away. 

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Don’t be.” He insisted, “I find your quirks endearing.” 

Calling her wild, glittering charms, endearing quirks, was really a disservice. She turned what was once nothing but a grassy clearing into a lush meadow. A little slice of the Feywild brought into creation with nothing more than her bliss.

Spellbinding would have been a better discretion, however, he wasn’t exactly eager to add yet _another_ item to his list of embarrassing, mid-coital confessions. It was frighteningly easy for Dafni to turn him into a besotted idiot. Between her honey-tongued kisses and bright laughter, it was hardly a fair fight. 

Add blood lust to the mix and he had a proven recipe for trouble. For that very reason, he’d come to the conclusion that separating feeding and fucking would be the wisest course. He enjoyed both far too much to fully surrender either. It was hard enough to keep himself in check with his cock nestled inside her. He took in a deep breath, savoring the heady sweetness that clung to her smooth skin. Lilac and primrose, just a hint of bergamot. An aroma that left him feeling totally beguiled. The finest perfume from Marsember, could not hold a candle to Dafni’s heavenly bouquet. 

Her neck and thigh still bore dark purple reminders of their last encounter. He slid a hand along the soft skin in her inner thigh, his fingertips lingering on indentations he’d left behind. Dafni’s palms pressed into his chest, fingernails lightly scraping along his skin as he worked himself in and out of her snug cunny. A bolt of pleasure skipped down his spine at the memory of her blood, sweet and sharp, coursing through him as she came undone in his arms. 

Yes, separating feeding and fucking would be the wise, but by the Hells, was it getting harder and harder to listen to wisdom when she was around. 

“May I?” He asked, nuzzling lightly at the side of her throat. 

Dafni gave him a quick nod. His lips made their way down the column of her neck, his tongue running along the healing puncture marks. Dafni braced herself for the sharpness of his teeth as his lips whispered across her fluttering pulse. Dafni whimpered as he pulled out to the tip, her body aching at the loss of perfect fullness. With one forceful press, he hilted himself once more, sinking his fangs into the crook of her neck as she cried out. Dafni’s whole body felt as if it were alight, euphoria coursing through her every vein. Warm tears threatened to form in the corners of her eyes as she unraveled around him. He took just a few deep swallows before breaking away, a trail of red dripping from the edge of his mouth. 

“Dafni…” His fingers laced through hers pressing her hand to his heart, a steady thump jumping beneath her trembling palm. 

A glimmer of remembrance tugged at the back of her mind. A taste of something once known, lost to time. Dafni tried to chase the sensation but it was gone as quickly as it came, hidden beyond the bittersweet veil of mortality with her idyllic memories of Arvandor. 

Though she’d only known him for a short time, the friendship that had blossomed between them meant more to her than she’d dare say. She thanked the Gods for allowing him to fall so serendipitously into her life. She’d grown quite attached to all of her new friends, of course! But, there was something about Astarion and the easy familiarity between them that felt so very right. 

Her thoughts drifted to their conversation in the hag’s cottage. He’d spoken as if he’d known her for centuries then days. He had no recollection of their conversation when he awoke the following morning. In truth, Dafni had been a bit relieved. 

However, he came to know her true name- Whoever he _might_ have been to her so many lifetimes ago, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the here and now, the people they were in this lifetime, and the person he now did not need the burden of any past affections he may or may not have had muddying the waters.

If Astarion was to care for her, let it be on his own terms, free of influence and expectation. If by some slim chance, more memories resurfaced, they could deal with it then. Until that moment, if it ever came, she would continue nurturing their friendship and allow the tenderness budding between them to grow in its own time.

His hips slapped against hers with increasing desperation. His eyes were heavily lidded, a subtle flush glowing across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His hold on her left hand tightening with every movement. Her intimate muscles tensed around him in the aftershock of her climax. His cock twitched, emptying inside her with a low, gratified sound. 

“You are an incredibly seductive little pixie.” He dropped to his forearm, his full weight pressing down against her, “I was sent out to bring you back to help pack and somehow I ended up naked in the woods with a ravished cleric.”

“I’m innocent in this situation!” Dafni chirped with laughter, gently freeing herself from his smothering tangle of willowy limbs. “I was seduced!” Astarion resisted her attempts to disentangle with playful flare. A flash of pearly fangs glinting beneath his upturned lips before landing on the ground beside her with a soft thud. Dafni rolled to her side, her hair tumbling down her bare shoulders as she came to rest on the swell of her hip, “I like seeing you smile, I wish you did that more often.”

“I promise to smile all you like if you come back and help me pack our things for the Underdark.” He quipped tapping his index finger to the upturned tip of her nose.

**Author's Note:**

> When I make a new OC, I always include a tiny piece of myself, a hobby, skill, or habit. It's always something small but acts as the proverbial "baby's first laugh" à la the fairies of Neverland for characters. I don't usually share what that spark is, but rather keep them as little in-jokes for myself and those closest to me. As a little peek behind the curtain, I will share that Dafni inherited my love of romance novels. I'm sure it's no surprise to anyone who follows my tumblr I am a lover of smutty, historical, and fantasy literature. This fic is my love letter to Tessa Dare, Lisa Kleypas, and all of the other women whose stories provide me with a much-needed escape during an awful year as well as inspiring me to write once more.  
> (Also yes, the vena amoris is an old wives tale BUT it's very romantic, and who's to say elves don't have the fictitious heart vein?)


End file.
